“How sweet is that part of your letter in which you say that if an accident had befallen me you would have hastened to my side and have never left me more! Why wasn’t I riddled with bullets? Why couldn’t those cowardly Frenchmen catch me? We are going to undertake something again soon, and then I will face the fire, and with intrepid courage brave the enemy. I will seek the most perilous places, and if I get wounded I shall hope to see you, hold you in my arms, and tell you how dearly I love you. “I hear that your father is going to Luisburg; if so, you will probably be one of the party. Pray tell me your plans, for I know not where to write, nor when to see you. They say our troops will be quartered at Louvain or Dist; in that case I shall be nearer you. If your mother were still away at Wiesbaden, I might hope to see you without its being known; but what I fear most is that the court of Celle will be at Epsdorff. In that event I shall lose patience, for you will be there a long time, and what shall I do at Hanover without you? I must tell you an ugly story about the Duke of Richmond; he was giving a party to Duke Frederick of Saxony and some women.[153]... I have altered my good opinion of him. Duke Frederick has promised me to come to the next carnival at Hanover, and you can easily guess why I press him. Is it to make me happy or unhappy? I say no more. Monsieur Kielmansegge is very anxious to go back to Hanover, and if His Highness asks it of the Duke they will allow him. I give you this piece of news as I am sure it will please you.... The Electress of Brandenburg is sending me compliments through Prince Ernest. I don’t know what she means; perhaps she wishes to become your rival. How we should laugh at her! Farewell, dear heart.” ----- Footnote 152: Two beauties of Brussels. Footnote 153: This anecdote is unfit for publication. ----- _The Princess to Königsmarck._ “[CELLE,] _August_ 6/16. “_I_ could not have carelessly allowed _three_ posts to go by without sending any news to you, and when one loves to madness it is hard to be calm. I crave your pardon for all I wrote that has displeased you; you are right to attribute it to anger. Had you forgotten me, whatever I may have said, I could not have borne it quietly, for I claim you as _all_ mine. I would stand up for you against the world. Pardon me, then; for what I wrote only came from excess of love.